You know I can't let you slide through my hands
by Scarlet Secret
Summary: The Flintshires show up at Downton for Rose's coming out and Cora tries to poach Sarah back.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Written for Siobhan (throwalittletantrum) for the Corah Christmas Exchange on tumblr. It got quite lengthy :P

* * *

From behind her husband's back Cora Crawley narrowed her eyes at the approaching cars. It was four years since the Armistice ended the brutal and bloody war that had touched all of their lives and Cora, naturally for a woman of her rank, knew nothing of true warfare, but she was astute enough to sense the battle that was inevitably going to come over the next few weeks. Robert didn't understand it of course – he had been thrilled to learn that after all their efforts to make a lady of Rose they were to be excused the final duties because Shrimpy and Susan were coming home to England for the season and as such could oversee their daughter's final preparations before she was presented for the first time. He saw a season consisting of little but pleasant chit-chat with old friends, indulging in his newfound and somewhat unexpected liking for jazz music, and avoiding his extended family at all costs. Cora saw no such potential frivolities. Instead she had spent the days since Susan's letter arrived in her usual looping scrawl having the very coldest guest room opened up, sanctioning the use of bed-sheets even Mrs Hughes couldn't identify the origin of, and taking great pleasure in ordering a menu for the next few weeks that consisted of nothing but the things she had learnt over the years the Marchioness of Flintshire was far from partial to.

The appalling woman had stolen her maid! And now they were both coming here again and Cora was determined, in Cora's ever-so-polite way, that she would make her feelings on the subject perfectly clear.

Two cars sped down the driveway towards them and Cora's eyes never once wavered from the trailing vehicle. The one in the lead would have Shrimpy and Susan but she would have her fill of them soon enough; the one following had the servants and Cora felt quite suddenly as she had when she had first made the journey to England and stood at the helm of the ship with her heart racing as more and more of the coastline of somewhere new and exciting came into view. She bit her lip and held her hands tightly together less she fidget with them – it had been nearly a whole year since the last time she'd seen O'Brien, it was only natural, she told herself, that she should be unnerved by the thought of seeing somebody who had been such a constant only to disappear with barely a word.

To her great annoyance, and she suspected that her canny ex-maid had something to do with it, the second car swerved the other way to its leader and drove out of sight towards the servant's entrance. Cora watched it go with a sense of disappointment but it quickly occurred to her that this was the right way. She didn't want to have to greet Susan with the spectre of what she had lost hovering in her line of sight; no, when she saw O'Brien again she wanted to speak to her properly, like they had before, and ask the other woman what on earth had possessed her. She wanted to have her say and enjoy it and that wouldn't be at all possible with everybody present and expecting her to be a gracious hostess.

James opened the car door when it came to a halt and in the moment before she saw the Flintshires Cora gritted her teeth and managed a fixed smile, nudging Rosamund lightly with her elbow.

"Do not leave me alone with that woman."

"Which one?" The teasing response came and Cora's smile was too rigid for the grimace she really wanted to convey but her eyes flashed in Rosamund's direction and her sister-in-law seemed to get the message, even if she clearly thought the message hilarious.

Shrimpy climbed out first, looking much the same as he had before if a little browner and was immediately accosted by Robert and Cora watched as the smaller figure of the Marchioness emerged. Susan looked, if anything, sallower than ever and Cora assessed her critically with all the verve that her mother once had with society girls; she looked tired and drawn, pleased to be back in England but already annoyed at the thought of leaving it again, grateful to see her daughter but a little put out that no one had met her at the station. Cora glided forth, mentally dragging Rosamund to come with her to cushion the blow.

"Susan, how lovely to see you."

Susan smiled with thin lips and Cora leaned in to kiss her cheek for only the slightest of seconds. A familiar scent accosted her nostrils immediately and she nearly wept there and then when she recognised the same soap solution being used on Susan's hair that O'Brien had used on hers for years.

"I do hope your journey wasn't _terribly_ unpleasant?"

"Journeys such as the one we have just undertaken are never anything less that _ghastly_ Cora, I would have thought you'd remember. Hullo Rosamund…"

"Susan. Dear." Rosamund kissed her cousin with, if anything, even less willingness than Cora. "How well you look."

"I very much doubt that after so long in that wretched car but I have been complimented more than once in Bombay."

Cora's fingernails dug into her palm. She had no desire to see Bombay and couldn't imagine that she ever would but a bitter stab of jealously hit her heart – it was _her_ maid that had made Susan look halfway bearable! O'Brien might have been uncommunicative and awkward, difficult with almost everyone and traitorous but damnit, she had been hers first!

"Really?" Rosamund piped up cheerfully. "And how is Bombay? Are there as many blind beggars as I've been led to believe?"

Cora lowered her head slightly to conceal her smirk and was glad when seconds later Shrimpy was free for her to greet and get her momentarily away from Susan's indignant face. If nothing else Cora knew she could always rely on Rosamund to know just the wrong thing to say.

* * *

Sarah O'Brien made eye-contact with nobody as she entered the backdoor and waited for Mrs Hughes with the Marquis' valet. Luckily the hall boys and scullery maids were unlikely to dare approach personal servants they didn't know but Sarah knew it was only a matter of time before she began to regret more than one of her choices in the last year.

"It's not a bad place this is it?" Reynolds said conversationally and Sarah turned to meet his eyes – he at least was a safer bet for the time being. He was certainly easier to cope with than either of the valets she'd had to content with in _this_ house and once he'd had his evening sherry was usually good company with a pack of cards. They'd spent many a night in Bombay warding off the heat without getting too familiar and telling each other stories that were of no consequence; she had never once mentioned Downton except in passing and he never spoke of the war. It was a camaraderie of familiarity and he reminded her slightly of the valet Lord Grantham had before Bates, with whom Sarah didn't remember ever sharing so much as a cross glance and more than a little bit of Mr Lang, whom she reminded herself to remember to write to while she was in England so he didn't worry about her lack of response from India.

"Don't be fooled by appearances."

He smiled at her tone and raised an eyebrow, quite used to her general moroseness but long ago having chosen to find it charming and amusing.

"Oh? A hotbed of intrigue is it? Are there terrors lurking around every corner?"

Sarah smothered her smile when Mrs Hughes appeared. It was an easy feat when she took in the look on the housekeeper's face; half indignation and half intrigue and Sarah determined there and then that she wasn't going to tell a single bloody one of them a thing. She'd take her meals in the kitchen with the hallboys if she had to because one glance at Mrs Hughes – although to be fair to the woman she was the _least_ of the problems – reminded Sarah of all the reasons she'd wanted to flee from this house in the first place. The intrusions that she couldn't control, the glances between Bates and Thomas and Anna that told her in no uncertain terms that they knew what she had done, the lack of interest from Alfie and Mr Carson's continuous distrust; but all of that she could have ignored readily but for the fact that her ladyship hadn't trusted her anymore. Sarah had never been sure whether Thomas had spilt the beans or not, but regardless Cora Crawley cared nothing for her beyond what she could do to her hair and she probably never had and that had been a hard blow when Sarah had finally accepted it.

"Miss O'Brien… I suppose we should have been prepared but somehow I didn't think even you would have the nerve to come back here after-"

"We're not their slaves Mrs Hughes, there's no 'CC' on my arm," Sarah gritted out as she tapped her elbow pointedly, trying her best to keep her tone neutral. "Where are we sleeping?"

"Well you'll not have your old room if that's what you're thinking. Her ladyship has a new lady's maid."

_God forbid she should run a comb through her own hair_, Sarah thought before remembering the last time she had thought that and what she'd done next. She swallowed but her throat was bone dry.

"This is Mr Reynolds."

Mrs Hughes turned to the other man, all politeness suddenly, and Sarah looked over her shoulder and saw them in the dining room as she had expected. Anna was sat next to Bates, fiddling with her mending and looking more drawn than Sarah remembered – perhaps she was pregnant? – and the back of a shiny, black head was visible. She looked away quickly.

"I'll show you upstairs Mr Reynolds. Miss O'Brien, you might as well come with us but I expect you can find your way to the right room."

"I expect I will."

Sarah pursed her lips and followed them, being led up a staircase she must have travelled ten thousand times towards bedrooms she had once helped to clean when Mrs Hughes organised the annual Spring airing. Reynolds was pointed towards his bedroom with a polite nod and half a smile and Mrs Hughes wondered back towards her with rather less surety in her role.

"I'll leave you alone then."

"What did she say?" Sarah managed once Mrs Hughes was a few steps away and she could stare at the wall rather than the other woman's face. "When she read the letter."

"Not much," Mrs Hughes admitted after a pause. "I think she was in a state of shock."

Sarah nodded slightly, not having expected much more but still hoping for it. Would it have killed Lady Grantham to be upset? To spare ten minutes to mourn her loss? No, Sarah could see her now. Huffing and puffing as though it was all Sarah's fault, spending most of the day in bed because she couldn't face the thought of Anna doing her hair and all of this culminating in her coming down for lunch having decided to be brave and advertise immediately.

"Did this new woman come quite quickly?"

"Miss Baxter?" Mrs Hughes hesitated for a second that was long enough for Sarah to divine something else. There was a story but she simply couldn't be bothered to be nosy anymore. "No. Miss Braithewaite took your place initially."

"Who?" Sarah furrowed her brow, trying to place the familiar name but only one woman came to mind and that was very unlikely.

"Edna. She was the housemaid-"

"You let some disgraced housemaid see to her ladyship?" She asked incredulous. "Why not just dredge up Ethel and have done with it?"

"I didn't have a great deal of choice. We were thrown in the deep end and Edna knew how to manipulate herself into the position."

"Did she do anything?" Sarah asked, wishing she didn't care about the answer and not able to meet Mrs Hughes' eyes now. "If there's a new one now Edna must be gone but did she do anything to her ladyship…"

"No, not to her ladyship. She tried it on with Mr Branson but her ladyship knew nothing of it," Mrs Hughes let out a noise that might have been a laugh and Sarah glanced up. "If it's any consolation I think she was less concerned about losing her."

"I suppose it's something."

It didn't feel like much though.

"And Miss Baxter?"

"She's competent and quite well-liked downstairs. I think Mr Molesley might be trying to step out with her."

Sarah opened the door to the spare room with a sardonic look towards Mrs Hughes.

"There was some mercy for me then."

* * *

Phyllis Baxter was of the opinion that the Countess really was a kind woman.

From Barrow's initial description all those months ago she had expected somebody quite different. More simpering perhaps, with more platitudes and ersatz gratitude but instead she had found the Countess to be easy company and really quite malleable while she was having her hair done. The American woman watched her in bursts in the mirror – Phyllis ignored the observations as best she could and had no idea what they might signify – but there was a small smile about the thin lips and when she finished unpinning the Countess' hair for the afternoon and laid it over her shoulder in a braid there was warmth in the bright blue eyes she couldn't help but be pleased with.

She had been told about the other lady's maid of course. Primarily by Thomas to begin with but since the Flintshires visit had been announced everybody seemed to have an opinion about Sarah O'Brien and not a lot of them had been position. Cora never spoke of her and had just been distant for the week leading up to the visit. She'd not had a clue how to combat it but so far she didn't seem to have put her foot in it and Phyllis hoped that her quiet presence would encourage the longevity of her position. If she was no trouble and just got on with the job then she hoped she'd be fine. Assuming Thomas kept his mouth shut too.

"Will that be all m'lady?"

Cora took a few long strides to her chaise and curled up on it as Phyllis had seen her do before. She still had a small smile about her lips but there was something about her eyes that Baxter had only seen once before; Thomas might be a pain, but he had been right about the orange juice and Lady Sybil and while the former had made Lady Grantham smile the latter had given her the same look of sorrow she possessed now.

"Could you ask Miss O'Brien to come up please?"

Baxter felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. She had been so sure of some security but if she lost this job to its old owner then Thomas would be far from pleased and the last thing she needed was him making things difficult for her. God knows, they were tricky enough as it was!

"Certainly m'lady."

Cora smiled softly at her and tilted her head, all the previous sorrow vanishing for a second.

"There's no need to fret Baxter, I have absolutely no intention of asking her to come back. Just please send her up."

Phyllis nodded and left the room smartly. On the way down the stairs she tried to believe Cora, tried not to fret about anything at all but it was difficult not to imagine what the two might talk about. Miss O'Brien seemed a strange woman and no one had wanted to sit next to her at lunch, some people hadn't even looked in her direction, and now Lady Grantham wanted to talk to her.

The self-preservation instinct in Phyllis only hoped that Cora wanted to tell O'Brien off.

She found the other woman in the yard, smoking a cigarette in a gloomy corner.

"Miss O'Brien? Lady Grantham asked for you."

She hadn't expected Miss O'Brien to throw a tantrum but the resignation on the other woman's face let her know quite clearly that the other lady's maid had expected the summons.

"Now?"

"That's what she said."

Sarah tossed her cigarette aside and marched passed the other woman. She had expected Cora to do this, been preparing herself but nothing could quite prepare her for the long, lonely walk upstairs. She'd stared at these walls as she carried the breakfast tray every day and they'd seemed familiar once – now they were hostile and she hated them as much as she hated every inch of Downton.

Instinctively she opened Cora's bedroom door without knocking and let herself in, freezing at her own actions the moment she stood in the door frame staring at the Countess for the first time in a year. She was agonisingly beautiful as ever and Sarah felt her wretched heart jump; she tried to make herself hate her, had spent night after night in Bombay trying to hate her but on some nights it had petered off into crying and others had left her with her hand between her legs thinking of Cora in other ways.

"You asked to see me m'lady?"

"Close the door."

Sarah did as she was told and stood with her hands tucked together as she always did. If nothing else, no one could ever accuse her of not being the consummate lady's maid.

"You're looking well O'Brien. The sun agrees with you."

"Thank you m'lady. I've tried to see as much of the city as I can."

Cora nodded idly, still feeling as tight-chested as she had when O'Brien had entered the room so casually, as tough nothing had changed between them.

"Does Lady Flintshire allow you much spare time?"

"A fair bit m'lady. I never venture far but there's so much to see of course."

"Oh. Well perhaps if there had been a daily bazaar in the village you wouldn't have been tempted away?" Cora said tartly.

Sarah raised her chin defiantly, not at all in the mood to be spoken to as though she was a naughty schoolgirl who had done wrong.

"Or does Susan pay you more? Was it always a matter of money?" Cora laughed humourlessly and sat down at her dressing table. "Goodness knows I can imagine she's more of a challenge for your skills."

Sarah pursed her lips. She wasn't mad about Lady Flintshire, but she had grown to like her a great deal and the slight against the Marchioness raised her heckles – annoyingly it didn't bother her half as much as it had when anyone had even spoken about Cora in the wrong tone.

"She's been very kind to me."

"Which I suppose_ I_ never was?"

Cora bristled: she had defended O'Brien time and time again against Robert's ire or Carson's dislike and never really minded that her maid had such a sharp tongue. In fact she had revelled in it and enjoyed the other woman's sense of humour more than she had realised at the time.

"No," Sarah said sadly, making Cora's eyes go wide. "No, you weren't always." She blinked tightly, trying to control her emotions but it was to no avail. "But then again neither was I…If you'll excuse me m'lady."

"O'Brien, don't you dare leave."

It made no difference and her maid left before Cora could stop her and there was nothing she could do about it. Tears filled her eyes and she hated O'Brien more than she ever had before because she had been denied her chance to have it out; she couldn't even chastise her, any complaint to Susan would smack of sour grapes and she hated the situation more than she could bear to think about.

With a sigh she tossed herself onto the bed and breathed out heavily, letting the few tears fall before she rolled over angrily and hit her pillow as hard as she could, not sure which of the many faces she was annoyed by at the moment she was imagining.

* * *

Sarah kept herself utterly calm as she placed pins in Lady Flintshire's hair, trying not to think about her encounter with Lady Grantham earlier as much as possible. Unfortunately, though Lady Flintshire liked to talk while she was being dressed she said very little of interest and Sarah's mind had ample opportunity to wonder.

She knew she shouldn't have spoken to Cora like that and the fault was probably mostly with her actions but the Countess was behaving as though she was an innocent, wronged party and if there was one thing Sarah didn't like, it was someone playing the martyr. Cora wasn't perfect either but the other woman had position on her side and Sarah knew that only her closeness with the Marchioness would keep her from being thrown out of the house.

"…and of course Rose had no interest in what I had to say at all, she seems to defer to Cora in all things now and if not her than Mary. I should have known this would happen, though I did ask Cora to speak kindly of me. I suppose she probably did it but I suspect any praise for me would have gone in one of Rose's ears and right out of the other one. Now if it had been Cora being praised I'm sure Rose would have been only too eager to agree and I had hoped that time apart would make her miss me at least a little bit but if anything she seem even more indifferent…"

That was something, Sarah supposed, hearing only the odd word of Susan's speech and letting her mind wonder with it. At least Cora wasn't indifferent to her - she might hate her now, but it struck Sarah, as she twisted Lady Flintshire's hair into position for another pin, that being ignored by Cora would probably be much worse.

"…Rosamund doesn't make things easier either and I'm quite certain that she'd been inviting Rose to stay with her you know? I don't imagine Cora would believe the things I've heard Rosamund gets up to in London so she probably lets her without the slightest concern for her well-being. Of course the whole _point_ of sending her to live here was to keep her away from London but Cora doesn't seem to bother with that at all…"

Sarah made a non-committal sound that was enough for Susan to be getting on with and she tried to block the noise out. She really did like Susan Flintshire but sometimes, when she went on like this, Sarah remembered the comfortable quietness with Cora; usually her lady had liked to talk about her night and she didn't mind Sarah asking her questions or prompting her a little bit, but sometimes she'd come into the bedroom with a drowsy smile and sit sighing happily as Sarah took the pins from her hair.

Sarah gritted her teeth to stop herself thinking about whether Cora did that with Miss Baxter now.

"Thank you O'Brien, I'll see you later," Susan smiled softly and Sarah remembered that she liked her. The Marchioness hesitated for a moment after she stood up and reached for Sarah's hand.

"I hope things aren't too uncomfortable for you downstairs my dear? It won't be forever."

Sarah smiled back gently and let Susan squeeze her hand.

"It's quite alright m'lady. I'm mostly keeping to myself."

"And Cora hasn't sought you out?"

"No," Sarah lied seamlessly. "I doubt she'd have use of me now she has Miss Baxter."

As Susan left Sarah couldn't help the bitter thought that Cora hadn't had much use for her before.

* * *

Cora slipped out of her bed quietly despite there being nobody there to hear her. Robert had long-since removed himself to his own bedroom and tonight after a liberal dose of brandy with Shrimpy he would have slept through anyway. She slipped through her own bathroom – she would have gone out to the hall and through the baize door at the end of the corridor but that would mean going past Rosamund's room and brandy or not her sister-in-law could be woken by a mouse snoring – and down the passage to the servant's quarters.

She reached the door of O'Brien's temporary bedroom and hesitated. The summer months might have been coming closer but there was still a chill in the house at this time of night and Cora shuddered and pulled her dressing gown tighter around her. Whatever had possessed her to come here she didn't know, but Cora had barely eaten a thing at dinner and was unable to settle now and she could only put it down to the cross words she'd shared with O'Brien earlier. She had decided to be the bigger person and make some overtures… or else use O'Brien's shock at being woken up to properly have her say this time!

She knocked gently, wary of waking others down the corridor but the only sound came from inside the room. She forced herself not to shuffle from foot to foot or fiddle with her fingers as she heard footsteps approaching the door. O'Brien appeared and flicked the light-switch at the same time and Cora was left rather flabbergasted.

She remembered O'Brien's nightwear perfectly well, although she couldn't pretend to have spent a great deal of time thinking about it, and _this_ was most definitely different. Gone was the sensible cotton and the nightcap that had once contained O'Brien's curls and instead her maid's hair was held in an elegant net behind her beck and her body… her body in a nightdress that even in this light Cora could see was silk and clung to the curves of Sarah's body in a way that left her beguiled.

"M'lady? Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Cora breathed out quickly. "Nothing's wrong at all."

"Okay… would you like to come in?"

"No," Cora did but she was unable to put her finger on why when she hadn't a few minutes before. Something deep inside her was urging her inside O'Brien's room but the part of her brain that wasn't still contemplating the white silk told her that it was a Bad Idea although it wasn't very keen to tell her why. "I wanted to apologise-"

"Why? You were right. I was tempted away."

"Could you be tempted back?"

In the dim light of the servant's corridor Cora couldn't see every movement of O'Brien's face but she could have sworn she saw something quite unusual pass over the other woman's features. O'Brien had so rarely given herself away to others that Cora had always been rather pleased when she'd seen her maid's emotions – the moments came back to her in a rush of memory that knocked her for six emotionally.

_The compassion during her pregnancy and the care after it had all gone wrong. The utter devotion during her illness and the clear happiness on her maid's face when she'd got stronger. O'Brien had held her hand and calmed her nerves before Mary's wedding, stroked her hair and given her brandy to sleep after Sybil died, shared jokes about Rosamund and Cora had never ceased to be amused by her maid's calculating brain when it came to schemes._

She'd missed her more than she had realised.

"Could you?"

"I think it'd be best if I wasn't."

"You don't care for me anymore?"

"M'lady…"

"No, I quite understand. Why should you really…" Cora nodded rigidly, all the annoyance that had brought her here quite gone and it was all she could do not to cry. Instead she turned away from O'Brien, needing to be away from the reminder of how much she had lost and without any idea of _how_ she had lost it.

"I'm not…" Sarah called out after a moment, causing Cora's foolish heart to leap unbecomingly in her chest. She looked over her shoulder, not quite able to stop her progress towards the stairs completely less she give up and throw herself at Sarah's feet in supplication. O'Brien didn't meet her eye but seemed to hesitate over taking a step from the safety of her bedroom.

"I'm not indifferent to you," Sarah shook her head to herself, half in wonderment. "I doubt I ever could be."

O'Brien looked at her quickly and her stomach lurched at the sheen of tears in the other woman's eyes. Before she could think of anything to say Sarah darted back into the room and closed the door behind her with a quiet click. Cora stood still for a moment, quite torn between heading back to her own bed or knocking on O'Brien's door so she could hear the words again.

_Not indifferent_ wasn't the most promising statement that she had ever heard of course, but it did open the door to possibilities. If Sarah had simply stopped caring about her then she would have been at a loss – had been at a lost only a few seconds ago – but the other woman still cared and it was a lifeline Cora would take. It was so clear to her what she needed to do now and she wondered that she hadn't thought of it before.

She was going to get her maid back if it was the last thing she did!

* * *

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:

* * *

Cora began her plan the following day.

She wasn't quite sure _why_ she wanted O'Brien back but after the odd moment the night when she'd seen something strange on the other woman's face she was quite positive that she did want her back and now it was certainly more than just a point of honour to lure her back from Susan. If it had been that simple she wouldn't have an odd fluttering in her stomach at the prospect and neither would be have been awake half the night deciding what to do. She didn't stop to think what the others downstairs might think if O'Brien came back, or whether Robert would allow it…_ or_ the fact that she had reassured Baxter less than a day ago that all was well.

She didn't care. Sarah wasn't indifferent and for the first time in nearly a year Cora felt lighter and filled with purpose.

"Will that be all m'lady?" Baxter asked, innocuously enough but to Cora's mind the woman that had been nothing but cordial and professional now seemed an interloper, even if she did feel somewhat apologetic. When she glanced in the mirror and caught sight of her lady's maid only one person would do and it simply wasn't Phyllis Baxter – no fault of the woman's own of course, but Cora had a feeling that something that had worked once might work again.

"Is Lady Flintshire up yet?"

"I don't think so m'lady. Miss O'Brien was still downstairs when I came up."

"I expect poor Susan's tired after her journey. Miss O'Brien too…"

"She seemed sharp enough to me m'lady."

Cora smiled softly to herself. Oh lord, how had she not realised how much she'd missed O'Brien?

"Regardless, perhaps when Lady Flintshire finally wakes up you could see to her. Tell Miss O'Brien it's my favour to her and she can go back to bed for a few hours. I won't have her dropping down in the servant's hall."

Baxter's face gave away her surprise – she wasn't as cautious as O'Brien but neither was she as difficult to Cora's mind – but Cora was adamant.

"Thank you Baxter, you can go now. Oh and if you wouldn't mind taking these menus down to Mrs Hughes for me?"

* * *

"She wants _what_?"

"I told you. She says I'm to see to Lady Flintshire and you-"

"Can go back to _bed_? Does she think I'm ill?"

From her spot in the yard Sarah glared vaguely towards where she knew the servant's hall to be and wondered who was behind this. Lady Flintshire liked her – in that respect Sarah knew her new mistress was quite unusual – and was unlikely to decide to turn against her without somebody else swaying her opinion. It was unlikely that someone downstairs had managed it though and really she didn't even know that Lady Flintshire had said anything. As far as she knew her mistress was still asleep: if anything, she slept even longer into the morning than Cora did.

"All she said was that I'm to see to Lady Flintshire so you can rest."

"_Rest?_"

"Yes Miss O'Brien," Baxter said, almost sharply, but she had been doing so well in this house and now her life was being troubled more than she liked. "Don't worry, I'm sure she was just being kind. She is very kind."

Sarah snorted and took a long drag on her cigarette, pushing the smoke angrily out through her nose and giving her the look of an indignant dragon to Phyllis.

"Fine."

Baxter turned away and stepped inside the house, crossing Thomas as she did. He caught her arm softly before she could get away.

"Has she said anything?"

"Which one?"

"Either would do."

"No. Miss O'Brien's just put out that Lady Grantham wants me to see to Lady Flintshire."

"She what?"

"She's just being kind I expect, they've had a long journey."

"Perhaps." He smirked as he extracted a cigarette. "The thing you don't understand about Miss O'Brien though is that she doesn't like kindness."

Baxter looked away as he left the house, taking a steadying breath as she heard the bell in the servant's hall and somebody calling for Miss O'Brien. She bit her lip and went inside, ready to serve the other mistress.

Meanwhile Thomas stepped outside into the crisp morning air.

"How times change Miss O'Brien."

Much to his annoyance, Sarah didn't even look over her shoulder.

"I know. The last time we met like this I'd just rescued you from the front."

"_Rescued me_?" He said, incredulously. "There was no bloody_ rescuing_ about it. Besides, I'm not some Princess in a fairy tale."

"Maybe not one in a fairy tale," she turned her head slightly from where she was gazing, her body rigid as she sat at the bench and he caught the hint of a smirk on her lips. "But still a _Princess_ in a lot of ways."

"You know I think Mr Bates has been right all along about you. You're nothing but a-"

"Oh give over will you." She turned towards him finally, tucking her legs under the table neatly and rolling her eyes in his general direction. "I don't care what Mr bloody Bates thinks about me and time was neither would you."

He took the seat opposite her, never sure, as he had been in the past, what kind of mood she was really in and what game she might be playing.

"Are they as sickening as ever?"

"Who?"

"You know who."

Thomas narrowed his eyes at her as he lit his cigarette, tossing the match over his shoulder.

"What's it to you?"

"Nothing anymore. Mr Reynolds," she gestured with her cigarette towards the general direction of where the man was probably eating his porridge. "Gets on with everyone and the butler out there's a nice chap. He's one of the natives but still, he's polite and acts like a gentleman."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"And the cooks," she carried on as though she'd never been interrupted. "There's a couple of them you see. We've got an English one for most of the meals but there's an Indian lady who comes a few times a week and makes special things for parties or such. The hall boys are all quiet and respectful, most of them wittering on in Punjabi mind but they're friendly enough and do as they're told."

Then it dawned on him.

"You're bored aren't you?"

She stopped talking at that and met his gaze, almost looking proud.

"You're bored to death because they're all as nice as pie over there and there's no one to have your fun with."

She smiled slightly and he couldn't resist smiling right back.

"You're unbelievable."

"Have you missed me?"

"No."

"Liar."

* * *

Cora stood on the corridor of the guest rooms and watched as Baxter vanished into Susan's room. She couldn't be sure this would work of course but it was more than worth a try. If Susan could take a fancy to Baxter's skills in the same way she had Sarah's then it might just be enough of a start.

Quickly she darted back to her own room and rang the bell. There was the possibility that Carson would send up Anna but she had hopefully prevented this by the brief sojourn to her daughter's room in the dead of night to make sure that Mary's riding trousers were suitably sooty. Shrimpy wanted to ride on the estate and Mary had promised to take him so that was a chore that would surely take up Anna's time, Mrs Hughes might come of course, but Cora only hoped she'd made enough of a muddle of the menus that the housekeeper was too busy trying to fathom them. She was still in her bedroom so a footman or Barrow wouldn't be suitably at all and it would be inappropriate to disturb a guest while she was being seen to. Which left him no option but O'Brien or a housemaid.

The question that plagued her in the few moments she waited was whether Mr Carson would break his usual order to send a lady's maid he didn't like but was very skilled or an untested housemaid to wait upon the Countess of Grantham. When she heard familiar, steady steps she knew things were going well.

O'Brien knocked this time, which gave her pause, but she sat at her dressing table and admitted the other woman.

"You rang m'lady?"

"Close the door will you O'Brien," it seemed like such a silly plan all of a sudden, but Cora could hardly stop now. "And come here please."

Sarah did as she was told with as blank an expression as she could muster – which wasn't saying much at the moment. Curiosity leaked out of her very being and Cora was every so glad!

"I wondered if you could help me with something."

"Can't Miss Baxter-"

"No, I'm afraid not O'Brien, only you'll do."

She got to her feet, picking up the box she'd pulled out her wardrobe the night before and moved to the chaise, gesturing for Sarah to sit next to her. She did, but slowly, and Cora was lost in thought for a moment at how much different a black dress with a different cut could make her formerly austere maid appear. Long gone were the high collars – it was almost cut like something Rosamund would wear – and the sleeves just passed her elbows; the dress pulled in at her waist with a belt that was a great deal more defining than anything Cora had previously seen her in. But her hair was the great difference, secured more neatly than it had been in the net last night but not nearly as tight a bun as she'd worn for twenty years here, instead there was the odd curl freeing itself and Cora noticed the red strands for the first time.

"M'lady?"

"My apologies O'Brien," she had been caught staring and looked away now in an attempt to cover her blush. "You're quite the new woman."

"I'm not so different m'lady."

"Well you_ look_ different."

Cora smiled at her softly, trying to offer something she couldn't put into words but had been perfectly formed in her mind last night. It was elusive but she knew it was still there if only she could find it again.

"What can I help you with m'lady?" O'Brien's eyes flashed with amusement. "I thought you wanted me to go back to bed?"

Cora stared at her for a moment before a small smile graced her lips. "Don't be facetious O'Brien, it doesn't suit you."

"It suited how I looked before."

Cora laughed at that and shook her head slightly to stop herself, placing the box pointedly on both their laps.

"Behave. I need you to help me look through this."

"What it is?"

"My photographs. Rose would like to wear something modern but in keeping with the spirit of the family so I promised I'd find the photos of the girls from before the war."

"Why did it have to be me?"

Cora didn't turn her head because she honestly didn't think she could.

"Because I can't think of anyone else I'd want to share all the memories in here with."

Sarah's mind reeled. It was ridiculous. Inside that box were a hundred photographs of Cora with her husband cut out of magazines or else taken professionally. The girls were in that box. Lady Sybil was in that box, smiling and small, only eight when Sarah had first met her, but though she'd liked the girl and mourned her with the rest of the staff she had no great connection other than Cora.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am."

Cora popped the lid off the box.

* * *

It took an hour to get through the top layer of photographs, long enough that Sarah knew Miss Baxter would have returned to the servant's hall and noticed that their mistresses had swapped them for the morning. Picture after picture of Cora at events and, as Sarah had predicted, with Robert in quite a few. The girls made their appearances quickly and Sarah remembered, with the fondness of having known them as children, what they had been like. Mary always haughty and proud but following Cora around and acting as her shadow; Edith gangly and awkward, crying and reaching for attention but getting none and throwing something instead. And Sybil, smiling, always smiling and curious and forever sneaking in places she shouldn't have been.

Despite her reluctance to sit with Cora and be told a story with each picture of a family that she'd never been a part of Sarah didn't hesitate to take Cora's hand each and every time it seemed like thinking about Sybil might be too much.

"I'm sorry for crying."

Sarah smiled softly, squeezing the digits in hers and turning Cora's hand over so she could cocoon it between both of hers.

"Don't be sorry. I've never minded."

"Really? I did wonder whether that might not have been part of it."

"Part of what?"

"You leaving me."

"M'lady…"

"What? Did you honestly think I wouldn't wonder what had brought it on after so long? I thought… I thought you'd be with me forever," she half-whispered.

Sarah reeled again.

"But you never said anything-"

"I assumed it was implied you… _aggravating_ woman. I thought you knew after everything."

"What did I know m'lady?" Sarah said, trying to use the same soft voice she'd used with Cora before but it wouldn't come anymore, not in the deceptive way she'd used it before anyway. "I knew that you didn't believe me when someone told you I was leaving-"

"Is _that_ what this has all been about?" Cora pulled her hand free, incredulous but not leaving her seat. She was inches away from O'Brien, closer than she'd been in years and she was determined to stay just there in case O'Brien's face gave her away as it had before. "That _stupid_ day and Mr Molesley's mistake?"

"You wouldn't listen and it hurt our working relationship-"

"How was I supposed to know that it was a joke?" Cora scoffed before her face became serious again. "Although it wasn't a joke for very long was it because you did do that in the end."

"You didn't believe me!" Sarah said, her eyes blazing and commanding Cora's attention. "After _everything_ you ever said about us being _friends_ and everything that happened you didn't believe me."

Sarah closed her eye and buried her head in her hands. She should go. This was becoming dangerous and she was fighting over something she knew she was wrong about. Cora hadn't trusted her but then Cora should never have trusted her should she? But, Sarah told herself in the looping part of her brain that was making continuing this argument so much easier, Cora didn't _know_ that she was a untrustworthy wretch so Cora hadn't believed her despite-

"I'll go."

"Do you know why I asked you to come up?"

"To look at you in old photographs and see the legacy of hairstyles I've done for you?"

"No," Cora said tartly, delving into the box again and pushing aside the folded up special edition of the paper that contained so many stories from the Titanic. JJ Astor was in there, Sarah remembered, one of Cora's oldest friends and someone she had mourned. He was being pushed aside now and Cora pulled out a white, cotton pillowcase that surprised Sarah with recognition.

"Is that?"

"Yes, you thoroughly stupid woman." The box was placed aside and Cora laid out the pillow, reaching inside like a child would with a stocking at Christmas. Out of the pillowcase she pulled a number of items, one after the other and Sarah watched shocked and knew what connected them all. There were handkerchiefs, several of them and all of them smelling faintly of whatever flower they'd once been pressed with and all embroidered with a date and name; there were small scent bottles, half-empty for the most part but some with drops left. One of the handkerchiefs fell open and fine, pressed flowers, dry and brittle as bone rested inside; there was a scrap of silk with the name 'Edith' in shaky stitching; half a bottle of a massaging cream that's contents had been disgusting and Sarah had immediately gotten rid of and replaced with her own concoction, because the thing that connected them was that she had made them all, or prompted in Edith's case, and given them to Cora. A bottle of brandy came next, the stopped in tightly and the coldness of the bottle showing how long everything had been resting there, waiting to be seen again – she hadn't made that of course but she remembered sneaking it up to Cora's room at the beginning of the war when everything had been so terrible and Cora had felt she had no right to mourn.

"You kept all this?"

Eighteen years worth of nonsense. There was a small travelling chess set that Sarah had found in Piccadilly once and given to Cora and the Countess had brought her into first class for the whole journey back to play with her; a book, only the size of Sarah's palm, but filled with humourous poetry of the like his lordship probably wouldn't approve of his wife reading; there were stockings that had fallen apart time and time again and Sarah had mended time and time again until they were good for nothing but Cora had wanted to keep them because they were the pair she had worn when she first set foot in England. An embroidered bookmark that bore the scarlet carnation of her home state came next and a dozen other things. One thing caught Sarah's eye though and it was only when she laughed she realised she had been crying.

"You kept _that_?"

She brushed her fingers over the glass bottle and Cora laughed took, the sound she had missed so much so close to her ears now it made an ache inside her lessen.

"Of course I did. To this day I don't know quite how you got hold of Coca-Cola in this country-"

"It was worth it to see you so happy m'lady."

"Sarah," Cora leaned her head down, the proximity letting her rest on O'Brien's shoulder. "What would it take? I won't beg but-"

"You could try asking."

Cora breathed out sharply and felt a tear run down her face.

"Will you come back to me?"

"Do you think it's as easy as just_ coming_ back here?"

"I didn't say here, to Downton," Cora lifted her head and turned towards Sarah and there it was again, the odd look that had been there the night before. "I said, will you come back to me."

"Yes," Sarah got out in a shaky voice and Cora beamed at her.

"But it's not that simple m'lady, there's Lady Flintshire, and your Miss Baxter and Mr Carson won't be pleased and I doubt his lordship mourned my loss-"

"I'm sure between us we'll be able to think of the best way to get you back here. We just need a plan."

"A plan?" Sarah asked, smiling herself when unexpectedly Cora took her hand again. She glanced down at where they were joined and forgot for a second that there was a woman called Susan Flintshire.

"Or a scheme. To hear Mr Bates tell it you're rather good at those."

Sarah flushed at that and it was on the tip of her tongue to say that Mr Bates was no better himself before she remembered why she had gone in the first place. It had all been so heady and wonderful and for a second she'd thought of nothing but Cora and that Cora wanted _her_ back but now it all shattered.

"I'm sorry m'lady…" she pulled her hand free a little more abruptly than she should and the look of surprise that came across Cora's face broke her heart. "I'm sorry."

She pushed herself to her feet, carefully making sure not to damage a thing from the pillowcase as she did and crossed the room to the door.

"I'm sorry," she muttered again, before she left Cora alone and stunned, closing the door behind her.


End file.
